Count Away
by llAurorall
Summary: Counting away the minutes and hours... RJ Slash


**Count Away...**

One… Two… Three… I've opened my eyes but the visions are still there. No amount of counting will take them away. They're too vivid to ignore and with every viewing I find myself responding in a way I didn't know possible. It's wrong and I know damn well it is. I know and that's what makes it that much more needing. I have no control over the passion and the fire that takes hold of my impulses. What she has over me isn't right and I shouldn't crave it, but God help me I do.

Four… I don't know exactly how many times it was, but it wasn't many. We found ourselves watching and waiting, unable to go ahead with anything. When it came to the acting, we stood back and inwardly scolded ourselves, rightly disgusted. After all, and anyone would agree, this isn't right. But what is right? Is the need for the touch and feel of another right? Is it right to want a friend? A companion? Is it right to want to hold your lover close and comfort them through the bad times and celebrate the good? Love and security is something that everyone is entitled to? It is right; to this point. From here on though, everything is wrong, so wrong. It's not right that I think about it always. Not okay that she's so young. Not right that I'm leading her astray. Not acceptable this is how I feel and I can't shake it off. It just isn't.

Five… Six… Seven… Are the hours I spend trying to separate myself. Fighting ecstasy is hard on both of us. We've tasted life on the other side and now we can't go back, not even if we wanted to. What's worse is that we can't fight our desires. For us it's natural. So natural the way you make me feel. The way you feel pressed up against me. The way you say my name as if it's the last thing you'll ever say.

Eight… Nine… Seconds is the most I've ever managed. I hate it. I hate that, that's all we have. These seconds in which to feel a worlds worth of passion, love, desire, lust, joy, contentment and every other emotion under the sun. It's not long enough to satiate my hunger for you. There isn't enough time to touch all of you, to experience what it is to be beside you, always.

Ten… Each and every one of them gone. My nerves always get to me when she walks into the room. So unassuming, so innocent. But I know what she did last night; what we did last night. She's less than a few feet away and I can smell the soap used to scrub away her sins. She's not watching me, she won't acknowledge me, but why should she? It's not as if we're together. But the fact that she knows I crave her, need her body and shake with suppressed intentions, that makes it so painful. She's playing with me, daring me to strike first. I'll fight her though; I'll fight till she gives in. I won't be the one to cave first, I'll sit here and chew away the nails that have already been bitten to the quick; all ten of them. I won't be the weaker.

Eleven… Twelve… What comes next? I can't think straight. Twelve… Twelve… Damn! See what you do to me? No. You don't see do you? If you could see what I can right now, we wouldn't be here. We'd be acting it out…

Thirteen… Fourteen… Fifteen minutes left before the mansion is empty again. It's Friday night and the students are all off to see a film. I declined of course; I have too much studying to do. I have to study every inch of her. I've got make sure I remember the way she begs me to stop, even when she doesn't mean it. I'll learn the way she breathes in and out, just so when my hands change the pattern I can take that much more pleasure in it. If she thinks that she'll bait me, she's wrong. Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer, and she is my enemy. My mortal enemy and I'll make damn sure to keep her close.

Sixteen… Seventeen… My God, is that all she is? Seventeen years and she's got me wrapped around her little finger. But if I think about it, nothing about us exists when we're together. Everything we are disappears. Our conservative natures and friendly dispositions evaporate in the heat of the moment. She rakes her fingernails down my back, placing small kisses along the nape of my neck. In return my hands grab tight of her hair, aching with the effort. Sometimes I bite down so hard that I taste the warm, salty liquid that is her life flow across my tongue. It's dangerous to take her blood, but everything about this is fuelled by danger. We are not ourselves when we're together. The tell-tale marks of aftermath are proof enough of that.

Eighteen… Is probably when she'll go. When you reach this stage you need to be alone. You need to stretch your wings and start your own journey. I wonder if she'll stay. Would we manage it? Would we even be together then? I'm ahead of myself I know but I don't know if I could go on without her constant presence. Without putting to rest my wants and needs I'd be a wreck, she's the only one that can keep me afloat now.

Nineteen… Nineteen hundred hours on the dot. Everyone's gone. She's in her room with a temperature and I'm down here trying to recall my study notes without a visual aid. I doubt she's ill. She's biding her time. She knows I can't stay down here knowing she's up there waiting.

Twenty… And I'm already outside her room.

…I used to be able to count to a hundred...

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One… Ivory. The number and shade of the foundation I swear she's wearing, desperately trying to cover the blush of her skin. It's obvious she's burning. She sits and squirms in her seat, temperature soaring with every thought. I know what she's thinking too. She's thinking that she'll die if she doesn't do something to stop herself. But if she stops, she'll kill me instead.

Two… Three in the morning usually. It's the only time we can be sure no one else will be around. I'll sit and wait for her in the Kitchen, the Rec room, the Danger room, anywhere really. Sometimes hiding from her is half the fun. I'll go and sit somewhere she'd never think to look. While she's searching high and low for me I can feel the frustration mounting. When it gets to the point just before she breaks down, I'll jump out behind her. She'll turn all that frustration and anger on me. She'll make damn sure it's worth the wait.

Four… Five… Six… Times a day at least. It's like I'm being stalked. Not that I mind, at all. But sometimes I wonder why she wants it so bad? Does she get some kind of high out of touching me? Does she like being so close to life and death at the same time? Does she get off on the pain I put her in? Or does she really love me?

Seven… Everyone's leaving. She says she's staying to study. That's about as true as me going to bed with a fever. The only illness I suffer with is her. It's a suffering that will be with me constantly. I suffer the way in which I crave her. I'm constantly putting up with the way he stares at her, when I know she only has eyes for me now. She's my illness but she's also my only cure.

Eight… Nine… Ten. Two more seconds, it's not too much for anyone else but it's the world to me. To be able to feel skin for two more seconds. It is after all the seconds that build the minutes, minutes that fill the hours. Maybe one day I'll get better, or she'll be able to touch me for longer than mere seconds. Until then it'll be my job to train her, to build her immunity. Tonight we'll go for more. When she starts to pull away I'll hold her fast. Forcing every last surface to touch, I'll show her what it is to touch me.

Eleven… Twelve hours of the day and night; I spend every one of them thinking about her, what she does and why. Her fire red hair falling down onto her shoulders, the way her body moves when she walks, the sound of her voice when laced with desperation and need. How she brings me alive with the smallest of touches. Her lips so intent on mine, her hands wandering across me, her teeth biting down when I'm in control. But this all brings me back to the question I'll probably be asking for the rest of my life; does she want me or does she love me?

Thirteen… Fourteen… Fifteen. It's the fifteenth today right? It's gone by so fast… Four months and counting. Will it go on forever like this though? Will she be there last thing at night and first thing in the morning? I can't imagine anyone else taking her place.

Seventeen… I wonder if she was like this when she was my age. Did she pack up her books early just so she could meet up with someone secretly? Did she spend every waking moment thinking and fantasizing about her lover? Remembering the previous day when she was pulled into one of the janitors closets? Did her teacher shout at her because she never paid attention to the lesson? Probably… Only she thought of him.

Eighteen… Nineteen… Now's the time and the race is on. She's climbing each step of the stair with deliberate intention. She's trying to stop herself but she can't. She's not in control anymore, no more than I am. With ever step closer, her feelings start to envelop me. If I let it, it'll push me over the edge. Before my sanity slips through my fingers though, I swing myself out of bed and leave the room. She's so close that if I run she'll hear me. So as delicately as I can I pad down the halls toward the other end of the mansion. In the distance I can hear my door opening with a familiar creak. The emotions that ripple through the mansion when she realises I'm not there almost bring my legs out from underneath me. Delicious anticipation laced with frustration. Picking up my pace now she knows I'm missing, I charge down the stair cases and into the main lobby. My breaths are short and ragged as I look round, frantically trying to find a place to hide. She's so close now, but I'm not giving up till she actually catches me. Throwing my full weight into the doors I burst through, tripping on the loose gravel of the driveway. Even though I'm about to fall I command my legs to run faster, pulling my head back into the air. I'm actually quite impressed by how well I've done. I managed to reach the trees before I felt her hands jerk back on my shoulders.

Twenty… She's going to make me suffer, I can see it in her eyes.

_A_


End file.
